


I Was Me

by stuckyisawayoflife



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old People Love Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckyisawayoflife/pseuds/stuckyisawayoflife
Summary: It went like this.James Buchanan Barnes aka Bucky aka the Winter Solider knocked on Steven Grant Rogers aka Steve aka Captain America’s door at precisely 5:47 am on Tuesday morning. And Steve who, despite all his training, was known to catch a case of “overtrusting idiot” every now and again, shuffled sleepily to the door and swung it open, yawning out a “can I help you?” without even fully opening his eyes.He blinked when he noticed Bucky standing there, long hair hanging limply under a hat pulled down low, metal hand hidden surreptitiously in his left pocket, giving him a shy sort of smile. Steve had to grip the doorframe to keep from falling to his knees.Bucky, who was much more composed, simply said, “Hey, Steve.”





	1. A Stranger at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a larger work, the next of which has not been posted yet. If you cannot handle that, please do not read

Chapter 1: A Stranger at the Door

It went like this.

James Buchanan Barnes a.k.a. Bucky a.k.a. the Winter Solider knocked on Steven Grant Rogers a.k.a. Steve a.k.a Captain America’s door at precisely 5:47 am on Tuesday morning. And Steve who, despite all his training, was known to catch a case of “overtrusting idiot” every now and again, shuffled sleepily to the door and swung it open, yawning out a, “Can I help you?” without even fully opening his eyes.

He blinked when he noticed Bucky standing there, long hair hanging limply under a hat pulled down low, metal hand hidden surreptitiously in his left pocket, giving him a shy sort of smile. Steve had to grip the doorframe to keep from falling to his knees.

Bucky, who was much more composed, simply said, “Hey, Steve.”

“Buck, I…” said Steve. He stopped and swallowed, a vain attempt to dislodge the lump in his throat. “You’re here,” he finally managed, weakly.

Bucky nodded, shifted, and said, “May I come in?”

Steve stepped aside at once and allowed Bucky to pass by him. Deep down, his common sense (which sounded suspiciously like Sam) was screaming that this was incredibly dangerous and was he a damn fool? But he couldn’t be bothered to spare it more than a moment of attention. Bucky was…here. In his house, like he’d been wishing for all this time, and he could cry.

Steve locked the door behind him, and turned to his new guest, mustering up a “you hungry, Bucky?” It didn’t escape his notice that Bucky was looking a little too lean and haggard, and it was clear that he needed a good shower as well. Steve doubted he’d had the means to really care for himself since the helicarriers.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, his left one, and followed Steve to the kitchen. Steve got to work making a breakfast sandwich on the Panini press Pepper insisted was “An absolute necessity, Steve, you’re going to love it!” and tried not to crawl outside his skin with anxiety. Bucky was unnervingly quiet and Steve was worried about spooking him with too much unnecessary conversation. He wished that Sam was there, because he’d know how to handle this situation delicately, but then again, maybe Bucky wouldn’t have approached had he not been alone.

A few more minutes of relative quiet later, he placed the sandwich and a glass of water in front of Bucky and leaned back, waiting. Bucky took the water and greedily drank half of it before even glancing at the sandwich and Steve felt guilty that he hadn’t offered that first.

Bucky picked at his sandwich absently for a moment, and as Steve was getting ready to ask if he wanted something else, said “I uh, wanted to say, sorry for what I did. And also, I’m sorry that I hid for so long, I just…didn’t think it was safe for me to be around you.”  
“Bucky, I would never, ever—”

“No, Steve, I know. You wouldn’t. I didn’t trust myself. Had to make sure I was safe. That you’d be safe around me.”

“I trust you, Bucky. You weren’t…you wouldn’t have done that if you’d had a choice.”

Bucky pursed his lips, but said nothing, instead shaking his head minutely. “Well, I’m sorry, anyway.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Steve, “and I don’t wanna hear about it again,” he added, firmly.

Bucky gave him a small smile, again. “I knew you’d say that.” He stood, looking around the house, and letting out a low whistle. “Nice place you got here.”

“Better than that rickety old apartment we used to share, that’s for sure,” said Steve, feeling light for the first time in, well…since Bucky fell. “And before you ask,” began Steve.

Bucky turned sharply, looking worried, but also resigned, his shoulders hitched up only slightly.

“You of course can stay here. If you want. As long as you need. I’ve been, um, keeping the guest room set up. In case.”

Bucky’s face went a little slack, and his posture relaxed some. Steve realized that he was expecting very different news, but he didn’t want to call attention to it, and make things awkward. Things were already awkward. For one, Bucky hadn’t hugged him, yet, and he was always one of the most affectionate guys Steve had ever known. But maybe—because Hydra?

“Here, let me show you your room,” said Steve, scratching his head, idly. He headed over to the guest bedroom that was off to the other side of the apartment. The guest bathroom separated its wall from Steve’s own room, and he had scarcely used it since moving in. “It’s not much, but the bed’s comfortable. Or so I’m told.”

He opened the door, moving to the side so Bucky could walk in past him. For a moment, Bucky was silent, and Steve was starting to worry that the room wasn’t nice enough, which was stupid, because there was no way Bucky had—

Bucky turned around, seemed to realize Steve was waiting for something, and then a funny thing happened. A shadow of confusion, and then fear, passed his face and he abruptly blurted out, “Thank you! Thanks, Steve, it’s just…it’s great.”

“Good, well,” Steve scratched his head, a little confused by the situation, but well. It had probably been a while since Bucky had interacted with anyone besides Hydra personnel, so there was bound to be a social faux pas, or two. “Um, the bathroom in the hallway is yours. Mine is in my bedroom.”

Bucky nodded, “Okay, great. I’m kind of tired because I didn’t sleep last night, so is it alright if I…” he motioned to the bed.

“Of course,” said Steve. “Just let me know if you need anything.” He smiled at Bucky and made to leave. “Oh, and Buck?” Bucky turned, giving Steve a wary look. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Bucky smiled, “Glad to be here, Steve.”

There was a pause, and Steve waited a second, because again, he was expecting Bucky to hug him. But Bucky just went and set his bag on the bed, so Steve left, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t so weird, he supposed. Bucky probably didn’t like to be touched anymore, after what he’d gone through. Steve would bet that Bucky hadn’t been touched in a kind way since 1945. Not since he fell from the train and Steve just left him to…well.

He went into his room and lay still for a long time, blinking back tears.

*

Hours passed before Steve’s metabolism churned through his breakfast, forcing him out of his wallowing and into the kitchen to reheat leftover spaghetti. It was then he noticed that Bucky hadn’t really eaten his sandwich. He wondered if Bucky had been really eating at all. Steve thought that he looked more well-fed when he was with Hydra, and then nearly gagged as he processed that thought.

A couple of minutes went by as Steve prepared, he looked at the time, a late lunch and he heard nothing from Bucky’s room. He listened carefully for any signs of life, but could hear nothing beyond the barrier of the bedroom door. Steve went about his own business for a while, trying to tell himself that Bucky wouldn’t reveal himself just to slip out unannounced after only a few hours.

He didn’t want to push Bucky, but almost without his consent, he was shuffling over to Bucky’s room, and raising his hand to knock at the door. He’d barely tapped it before it was swinging open.

“Hey, Steve,” said Bucky, giving him a little smile. His clothing was rumpled, which suggested he had been lying down at least, if not fully asleep.

“Oh, you’re awake,” said Steve, dumbly. “Um, I was just…are you hungry? Because you didn’t really eat your sandwich earlier.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waste it.”

“It’s fine,” said Steve. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Bucky grinned, and nodded towards the hallway. “Could I use the bathroom?”

Steve paused, giving Bucky a look. “Well, yeah, it’s your bathroom.”

“Right,” said Bucky, and he moved past Steve, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door without another word. Steve would have liked to say he didn’t spend the next 15 minutes analyzing Bucky’s behavior, but he’d be lying to himself. He threw out the sandwich from earlier; the bread had already gotten stale from the open air.

When Bucky finally emerged, he joined Steve in the kitchen, looking clean and with a healthy flush to his skin. Steve felt himself relax a little at the sight. Bucky was wearing the clothes he’d been collecting in case. He looked soft and warm.

“So,” said Bucky, grabbing a seat, the same one he’d sat in earlier. He waited to continue until Steve had paused mid-bite of his spaghetti. “I wasn’t fed regularly when I was with Hydra. They used to feed me through a tube. And eating solid food…is difficult.”

“Oh,” Steve put his fork down. “So the sandwich was too much.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky.

“Well, okay, then. What can you eat?”

“I’ve mostly been living off of those ensure shakes, you know, the ones for old people.”

“Oh. Well, I have some protein shakes in the fridge, made especially for me. Since, with my metabolism and all…” Bucky nodded, understanding. “Wanna try one of those?”

“Sure.”

He turned to get one, tossing it over to Bucky, who caught it one-handed. He took a sip with a grimace, and Steve gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, they kinda taste gross. But they get the job done.”

They “ate” together in relative silence for the next few minutes. Steve didn’t want to admit it, but he felt awkward. Part of him wanted to throw himself at Bucky’s feet and beg for forgiveness for leaving him in that frozen ravine, but the other part of him told himself that he should avoid overwhelming Bucky with all of his guilt. As a result, he felt paralyzed. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though, happily drinking his protein shake and occasionally glancing out the window. Steve was still a bit worried about Bucky’s health, but he did ask for another one after he finished, so he counted that as a win.

*

Steve woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Bucky retching. He immediately shot up in bed, but waited a moment before storming to the bathroom. It was possible that Bucky would want his privacy, but still…there was no way Steve could just leave him there. He got up, padding over to the guest bathroom. The door was closed. He raised his hand to knock just as he heard the toilet flush over the sound of running water in the sink.

“Buck?” said Steve, right as the door swung open. Bucky looked startled to see Steve standing there, and then suddenly equal parts ashamed and fearful. “Did you get sick?”

He gave a jerky nod. “I cleaned it up.”

“That’s,” said Steve, “you don’t have to be embarrassed. I would have helped you. I can run out and get you something to settle your stomach, if you need it.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” said Bucky, softly, looking away.

“Bucky, since when do you care about that?” asked Steve, lightly, attempting to cheer Bucky up. Instead, he watched as his friend slowly looked mortified, his shoulders hunching up. “I was just kidding, Buck, it’s alright.”

He was shaking a bit, and Steve was worried that he was going to fall over in the hallway, so he placed a hand on the small of his back, leading him back to the guest room. “Come on, why don’t you lie down?”

Bucky went, placidly. He watched Steve like he was some strange creature as Steve fussed over him and fixed his blankets. Well, Steve supposed, usually it had always been Bucky taking care of Steve, and not the other way around. It felt nice to be able to repay the favor.

He finally left, asking Bucky again if he was sure that he didn’t need anything for his stomach. But Bucky simply gave him a sharp head shake, and Steve didn’t want to push, so that was that.

When he got back to his bedroom, he stared at the ceiling for a long time. Something itched his brain about the whole situation, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He fell asleep eventually, but woke several times throughout the night feeling panicked for some reason.


	2. Boundaries and Expectations

If Bucky had woken before Steve that next morning, he was as silent as a ghost. Steve slept in, for once foregoing his morning run, to try to make up for his restless night, and listened carefully for signs of life in his apartment. But he heard nothing at all for the longest time and so he went about his morning routine. He didn’t want to push Bucky but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried that Bucky had slipped out during the night.

When he grew tired of stalling, he left his room, walking towards the guest bedroom that he’d offered Bucky the night before.

“Buck?”

The door swung open immediately, as though Bucky had been waiting there. “Yes, Steve?”

“Oh. I was just,” he scratched the back of his head, oddly embarrassed. Bucky looked soft and warm in Steve’s sleeping clothes. He hadn’t noticed last night because of the awkwardness of the whole situation. He mentally gathered himself. “Um, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you last night.”

Steve felt his brows furrow. “Don’t worry about it, Buck, seriously. I just want you to be okay.”

A strange silence stretched for a moment, and as though Bucky suddenly realized he needed to speak, he blurted out. “Thanks, Steve. I—I really appreciate it.”

“Okay, well, I was just going to get breakfast started. Do you think it was the extra protein shake that made you throw up last night, or just that it wasn’t an ensure?”

“I don’t know,” said Bucky. “I—it was more filling than the ensures are. I think maybe it was too much for my stomach.”

“Is your stomach tight now?” asked Steve. “Are you hungry at all? I can get you some saltines, or something.”

“Can I have some water, if that’s alright?” he asked instead. Steve nodded, turning to head towards the kitchen. It was hard to read Bucky. He seemed both embarrassed and…well. Maybe afraid wasn’t the right word, but something close. Steve didn’t know what to make of him. Not for the first time, Steve thought about calling Sam. He felt a little guilty that Sam had been helping him look for Bucky and he hadn’t even bothered to let Sam know that he’d found him after all. It was difficult, though. He didn’t want to spook Bucky by getting too many people involved, too soon.

Steve could hear the quiet padding of Bucky following behind him, and knew that he was making noise purposefully—Bucky could be perfectly silent if he so desired—he was making noise for Steve’s comfort. Natasha was known to do the same.

As if his stray thought had summoned her, Steve suddenly heard a knock at his door. He had one brief moment of making eye contact with a panicked Bucky who was out the window before Steve could utter a syllable. He cursed under his breath, but knew he had to answer to avoid suspicion. 

“Damn it, Natasha,” said Steve, striding towards the door. He knew it was her—no one else came to visit him, except maybe Sam, and he wasn’t likely to pop up from DC with no warning. He opened the door and there she was, quirking a bemused smile.

“Rogers, what have I told you about answering the door without checking to see who it is, first?” Steve stepped back, allowing her in, forcing himself not to look towards the window. 

“How do you know I didn’t look through the peephole?” he said, heading toward the living room. He paused halfway there. “You want anything?”

Natasha shrugged easily, a gesture that Steve knew was contrived, as were most things that she seemed to do casually. He’d worked with her for over two years and still didn’t know which habits, which affects, were the real Natasha. But he had a feeling that she liked it that way, and Steve wasn’t known to push. Well, not unless it came to…

“You’re distracted,” observed Natasha. “What’s going on?”

“Why are you here?” asked Steve, instead. There was no use pretending he wasn’t distracted, but like his own habit, if he didn’t want to discuss something, Natasha wouldn’t push.

Natasha gave that little smile that suggested she was considering playing coy, but at his expression, she shrugged. “Fury asked me to drop in.”

“Yeah? What does he want?”

Natasha took out her phone, flipping it in her hand, “your bugs have been deactivated.”

Steve didn’t react visibly. “They shouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

She hummed, taking a moment to reply. “How did you know where they were?”

He smiled at her. Steve was a shit liar, so sticking as close to the truth as was possible was his best bet. “You think you’re my only spy friend?” he said, leaning forward. Natasha leaned forward as well.

“So you’re admit we’re friends.” She stood, laughing lightly. “Thanks, Steve, that really means a lot.”

“Did you come here to plant more bugs?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good spy if I told you that, now would I?” asked Natasha, heading towards the door. “But no. No more bugs. Fury just wanted to make sure that you weren’t dead. If you checked in more often, he wouldn’t bother with the bugs, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Steve, opening the door for her. She offered him one last smile before patting him on the shoulder and leaving. Steve turned around and headed toward the kitchen, counting to a hundred before walking towards the window. He casually opened it and leaned against it. 

Bucky was sitting on the fire escape, slightly shaken, but okay, and still there, which was the important thing. He stood, lifting a finger to his lips before climbing silently back into the apartment. 

Steve leaned against the windowsill, watching as Bucky did his sweep of the apartment. Steve went to the kitchen and went about fixing himself breakfast, humming to himself as Bucky worked. After about thirty minutes, Bucky returned to his side. 

“No plants.”

Steve hummed, impressed with Natasha for being honest for once. He supposed that was a problem he’d have to work on—trusting people at their word.

“Found the saltines,” he said, handing Bucky the package. “You should try to eat if you can.”

Bucky nodded, sitting down. Steve breathed in and out for a minute, trying to settle down. “So, Buck, you wanna explain what happened to the bugs that Nick planted?”

“I got rid of them.”

“Uh-huh,” said Steve, casually. “When did you do that?”

Bucky was silent for a long while, and it finally drove Steve to look up at him. “Buck?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Steve felt his stomach plummet. Of course, that meant that Bucky had been inside his house, which was supposed to be secure, completely without his knowledge. Bucky wouldn’t have hurt him, obviously, but he just felt…violated.

“Bucky,” said Steve, sighing.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” said Bucky, standing abruptly.

“No, Buck. That’s not…that won’t be necessary. I just…you understand why that’s not okay, right?”

“I knew you were bugged, I was able to intercept them. I knew they’d come for both of us if they knew I was here, so…I just crushed them.”

The thing was, Steve completely understood why Bucky had done it. There was no way he could have controlled his reaction at seeing Bucky, and then he’d have to either turn Bucky in or…

“It’s okay, Bucky, I’m not upset. It just worries me that you were able to get in without notice so easily, is all.”

“You’re not…going to turn me in to the Avengers?”

Steve’s initial reaction was to snort, but then he realized that Bucky was being serious. He put down the butter knife he’d been using to slather peanut butter on his bread, and turned towards Bucky. “Of course not. I would never, Bucky. I mean it.”

“But if Hydra ever caught up to me…they could make me obey again. Then you would take me down, turn me in,” he said, confidently.

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again. There was no guarantee that he could protect Bucky if Hydra showed up and uttered his trigger words. Though the file was brief, there was indeed mention of a specific phrase that garnered the…Winter Soldier’s immediate compliance. Of course, there was no mention of what those words were, so deprogramming him was going to be impossible. Not that Steve had the resources to do such a thing without alerting whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D that the legendary assassin was currently in his apartment, dressed in Steve’s pajamas.

Bucky sighed. “Steve, I need to hear you say it.”

Steve’s head snapped up, looking toward Bucky in confusion.

“I can’t go back, Steve. And you’re the only one who’s strong enough. Please, promise me.”

“O-okay, Bucky. I promise.” The very utterance of the words made Steve gag a little.

Bucky, however, seemed satisfied, and nodded his head. He sat down at the kitchen barstool, finally opening up the package of saltines. Steve went back to cooking his breakfast, though when he finally ate it, it tasted like ash in his mouth.


	3. Do I Know You?

Steve woke up bright and early the next morning with a game plan to go pick up some essentials for Bucky. He had a S.H.I.E.L.D issued credit card that he barely used, except for essentials like food and gas. All his other bills were easily paid for using his military back-pay, and the apartment had been furnished before he moved in. so he hadn’t really needed to make any purchases. But now he actually had a desire to use it.

It felt like justice in some way, Steve mused as he starting pulling on some clothes. Bucky had, for all intents and purposes, been used by Hydra operating within S.H.I.E.L.D to nefarious effect and it was only fitting now that they paid for all of his needs, and whatever he wanted, as well.

For starters, Bucky needed his own wardrobe, not just to wander the house in Steve’s too-big sweatpants and t-shirts. And he needed a laptop or something of the sort for entertainment purposes. Steve also intended to set up a smart TV in his room so he could have access to Netflix and whatever else he desired. Steve could imagine that Bucky hadn’t had anything of the sort in his time as a POW, and he wanted to show Bucky all the ways in which the technology of the future was exciting.

Bucky had always loved gadgets, whenever he could get his hands on them. There hadn’t been so much to offer, but he’d come home with newspaper clippings and fliers advertising the next big thing that promised to make life easier for people. He smiled as he thought about being able to show Bucky something new for a change, when it had always been the other way around.

Of course, it was not like Bucky could go gallivanting with Steve in the stores. His antics as the Winter Soldier in the attack on the highway had been caught by cellphone cameras and spread across the entirety of the internet. Not to mention the Winter Soldier files being uploaded onto the internet in Natasha’s attempt to expose Hydra for who for they really were. 

And if that weren’t enough, Steve had no clue what Hydra scum was looking for him to help rebuild what they lost. So no, he’d have to go on his own. He knew the measurements for pre-war Bucky, but he had packed on a considerable amount of muscle mass during his military service and subsequent imprisonment, and then lost it again, presumably within the last 18 months. He was smaller than Steve, certainly.

Steve sighed. What he needed was measuring tape. Bucky had always been the one into fashion, and the one who always made sure they had measuring tape on hand so that Steve’s suits could be only slightly poorly fitted instead of completely poorly fitted.

He finished getting dressed and walked over to Bucky’s room, knocking softly. He heard rustling and then a panicked-looking Bucky swung the door open.   
“Sorry,” he said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What’re you sorry for?”

Bucky blushed. “Nothing. What’s going on?”

“Okay…” said Steve, feeling thrown off by the interaction. “So, I’m headed out to pick up some things for you, but I just wanted to check if you needed anything in particular.”

“Oh,” said Bucky, frowning slightly. “But I don’t need anything.” He smiled at Steve, then. “Everything is fine.”

“Um, well. You need clothes; you can’t keep wearing mine,” said Steve, chuckling. But then Bucky winced, and Steve felt like a jerk. “Well, you could, but they uh…don’t really fit you right now Bucky. And since the serum, I’m taller than you.”

“Okay,” said Bucky. 

And that would have been a perfectly normal response, had Steve said it to anyone but Bucky. The fact that the serum had made Steve exactly 2 inches taller than Bucky had been a sore subject, ever since they’d figured it out. Bucky always, always loudly called bullshit and demanded they stand shoulder to shoulder for someone to prove that Bucky was still taller, or at the very least, the same height.

“That’s it?” asked Steve, completely unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Bucky simply blinked and frowned at him. He looked down at his feet, and then back up at Steve.

“Thank you?” he offered, awkwardly. It was clear that he had no idea what was going on. Steve hesitated a second, and then shook his head. Bucky had changed; their difference in height was obviously not a matter of importance given what he’d been through and to point it out at this point further would make Steve a complete jack-off.

“It’s no problem,” said Steve, hurriedly. That odd worried expression that Bucky kept making was starting to leak into his expression. “I was just…expecting something else. Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky nodded, and some of the wildness in his eyes settled, but he didn’t look entirely comfortable.

“Anyway, I’m going to head out now. I’ll bring back a measuring tape for you, and then we’ll order some clothes online. The rest of the stuff I’ll go take a look at, and we can have it delivered later.”

“Sounds good,” said Bucky, offering a tentative smile. “I’ll be here.”

Steve laughed a little then, but Bucky didn’t, so he just felt awkward. “Right, so.” He backed away, grabbing his keys and heading out. 

What in the hell was that? It was like he was missing something. Bucky was acting beyond weird. He was too…too something. But Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on what that something was. It was like an itch that he couldn’t quite scratch.

*

Things only got weirder after that. 

To start with, Bucky had been very grateful for all of the things Steve bought him, but he hadn’t been overtly interested in any of the new technology. He listened placidly as Steve explained it all to him, and then repeated anything he wasn’t clear about, but in a meek tone. And if he got something wrong, he flinched and apologized, correcting himself before Steve could even say anything.

And Steve could have maybe ignored that if all of their other interactions hadn’t been so completely abnormal.

For one thing, Steve kept trying to reminisce with Bucky about the good old days, when they were growing up together in Brooklyn. The weird thing was that Bucky never really joined in. So, okay, he laughed at the funny parts, but he never jumped in when Steve gave a pause for him to fill. Bucky had always been the talkative one between the two of them, but now he seemed perfectly content to let Steve carry almost all of their conversations.

The other thing was Steve was starting to notice all the ways that Bucky was different than he remembered. At first he was so happy to have Bucky back in his life, that he just glossed over any inconsistences. But now…try as he might, he couldn’t help that disappointed twist of his lips whenever Bucky didn’t move like the old Bucky, didn’t say words with the same Brooklyn lilt as the old Bucky, didn’t like the same foods as the old Bucky.

Of course, Steve knew, deep down, that Bucky had been through unimaginable experiences. He had literally been unmade and then made anew within Hydra’s image. It was silly of him to think that Bucky would come back into his life and things would be as they were before, two poor Brooklyn boys trying to make it work the best they could in a world that seemed to cut them no breaks. And yet…

Steve knew he was being a jackass. He didn’t know if Bucky could pick up on his disappointment, but it had only been a few days and it was becoming more and more apparent that he didn’t really know this man that he’d invited to live here with him. 

Of course, despite all this, Bucky was perfectly fine to live with. It was Steve who had the problem, and he was determined to get over it. He was supposed to be a support for Bucky, not getting all emotional because Bucky didn’t like mustard anymore. It’s just…if he could just call and talk to Sam about it…

Steve caught himself dialing Sam before he could even finish the thought, and it wasn’t until Sam was already speaking that he realized what he’d done. 

“Steve, what’s wrong? Is there an emergency?”

“Hey, Sam, it’s Steve,” said Steve, dumbly.

“Steve, ignoring the fact that I greeted you by saying your name, I’ll remind you that I have your number programed into my phone and your dumb, smiling face comes up on my screen whenever you call me.”

“I thought you liked that picture,” said Steve, pouting a little.

“Of course, I do,” said Sam. “I love your dumb face, you know that. Anyway, what’s up?

“Um, I was wondering. Do you think you could head to New York? I’ll cover your expenses. I just need to talk to you in person.”

“Sure, man. I’ll let the VA know not to expect me for a little bit.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve paused, looking towards Bucky’s shut door. “You’re a good friend.”

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping tabs on all these favors. You’re coming to my mama’s house with me for Thanksgiving.” 

They laughed and said their goodbyes, and Steve turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of Bucky in the kitchen. 

“Is someone coming here?” asked Bucky. His voice was doing a weird, high-pitched thing and his entire posture was tense. Steve stared at him for a moment before answering, trying to recall if he had ever seen Bucky behave like this in all the years that he’d known him. Maybe once, when they’d encountered a rabid dog on the way home from Coney Island…

“My friend, Sam,” said Steve finally, shaking his head. There was no use dwelling on it, when he could do nothing about it at the moment. Sam would be able to help. “He’s a counselor,” he elaborated, then winced. Well, he might as well have told Bucky that he was hoping Sam could psycholanalyze him so that Steve could figure out just what the heck was going on. 

“Is he with the Avengers?” asked Bucky.

“No, he’s just a friend. I just need to see him, is all.” Steve hoped that Bucky didn’t think too deeply about that, but he simply nodded, his shoulders un-hunching just a tad.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“What?” asked Steve. “Why would I want that? This is your home; I’m not gonna kick you out because I have company.” Steve started to mention that he wouldn’t expect that Bucky would kick him out if he ever needed to have someone over, but his brain caught up with his mouth before he could utter such a damn fool thing. It wasn’t like Bucky was rolling with popularity these days.

Bucky nodded, again, but Steve’s brain stuttered just a little when he caught him mouthing “home” to himself as he turned around as though he’d never heard the word before.

*

To make things less complicated, Steve arranged to pick up Sam at the airport himself, so that they could have the car ride to talk. He even made a cheesy cardboard sign that said Sam Wilson on it with a little caricature. Sam laughed out loud when he saw him, and gave him a bear hug.

“Aw, man, is this supposed to be me? That’s messed up, Steve, why is my gap two inches wide?”

“Sam,” said Steve seriously. Sam pulled himself up straight, looking at Steve with concern in his eyes. “This is how you actually look. Did no one tell you?”

He barked a laugh, pushing Steve. “You’re the actual worst. I don’t know why we’re friends.”

They shoulder bumped each other playfully as they made their way to Steve’s car. 

“So glad you didn’t bring the bike. I mean, you’re handsome and all, but I don’t wanna be pressed up against you for an hour long ride.”

Steve laughed, already feeling better. “You can’t get all of this for free, Sam. What kinda guy do you think I am?”

To his credit, Sam waited until they were in the car and pulling out of the madness that was airport traffic before asking, “So why did you need me to come down here so suddenly? Is it about…?”

“Yeah, um. So, I found him. Well, that’s not true. He found me. Knocked on my door one morning a little over a week ago. He’s been staying with me.”

“Okay,” said Sam, neutrally. “Later I’m going to yell at you for letting the Winter-freaking-soldier into your home and telling no one.” Steve grimaced. “But I’ll play nice for now. How did he seem?”

“Normal,” said Steve, automatically. At Sam’s skeptical look, he elaborated. “Well. Not normal, but not as bad as I was expecting. It’s great having him around. It’s just—well, it’s all little stuff.”

“Right,” said Sam, “what kind of ‘little stuff’?”

“Well,” began Steve. “I’m starting to think his memory isn’t so good. Sometimes I try to talk to him about the past and…well, you know how when you’re telling a story to a friend, and they were there, and they jump in to fill in details?”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky doesn’t do that. Well, he does it occasionally, but a lot of times it’s like he’s just along for the ride. And it’s other things, too.” Steve went on a rant, describing all the ways that Bucky was different now, and Sam nodded along, never seeming surprised at all, until Steve got to his final point. “Also, he’s too polite.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Sam, quietly.

“Okay, so, to be fair, Bucky’s always been polite. But, he’s too…I don’t know, it’s like almost deferential. It’s like he’s scared of me, or something, which is ridiculous. He was the one who almost killed me last time we saw each other, so I don’t know why—it’s just weird. It’s really weird.”

“Steve,” said Sam, after a moment of silence. “I’m going to ask you something, and I am not trying to upset you.”

Steve sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Bucky dragged you up onto the river bank, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, I was knocked out, but it had to be him. No one else would have known where I was, or been there to save me.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sam. “You said he stopped when you said your line, ‘end of the line’ or something like that?”

“I think it got through the programming. He remembered me.”

“I just think,” began Sam, “that if I remembered my best friend after seventy years of torture, that I might stick around to make sure he was okay.”

“Well,” started Steve.

“I also think,” continued Sam, “that even if I couldn’t stick around to make sure my best friend, who is all I have in the world, was okay, that I wouldn’t hide from him for 18 months.”

“Sam, what are you saying?”

“What makes you believe that he remembers you at all?”

Steve gaped, his mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment. That just didn’t make any sense! “Why would he come to me if he didn’t…if he didn’t…”

“S.H.I.E.L.D/Hydra whoever-the-hell-they-were is for all intents and purposes, gone. But you…you didn’t raise a fist to defend yourself, not even when he was beating you half to death. Where else would he have to go?”

“That’s ridic—”

“Did he say that he remembered you?” asked Sam, calmly.

“He,” began Steve. But then he stopped. Had Bucky ever said that? Had Steve ever asked? He thought back to their first interaction. 

Hey, Steve. May I come in?

And Steve had let him in.

Hey, Steve.

I cleaned it up.

I don’t want to be a burden.

“Steve!” yelled Sam.

Steve blinked, suddenly noticing his breathing. He was…he was having an asthma attack. No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t have asthma anymore.

“You’re hyperventilating. Pull over,” said Sam, just as calm. Steve did as he was told. “It’s okay, you’re just having a panic attack. Inhale on a four count, hold it for a seven count, and exhale for an eight count, okay?”

Steve did, and after a few minutes, he started feeling his heart calm. After a moment, he was able to speak. “Sam. What do I do?”

“We’ll figure it out together. When we get to your place, we’re just gonna talk to him. I don’t think he’s violent, or well, at least I don’t think he’ll get violent with you. But we need to figure out what his game is.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “Okay.”

*

As it turned out, Bucky remembered Sam. The wide-eyed look he affected when Steve knocked on his door to introduce them said as much. Just as quickly, the look turned into guilt, and he hastily apologized for ripping off Sam’s wing and kicking him off the helicarrier. 

“It’s cool, man. Occupational hazard.” Sam’s easy smile lifted the tension in the living room, and Bucky actually managed to minutely relax. He followed them out into the living room and sank into the couch. 

Steve could do no such thing, standing rigidly near the door, trying and failing to brace himself for the upcoming conversation. Bucky seemed to pick up that something was wrong, but he had that same resigned look that he got every now and again, and that was it. “So, Bucky, hope you don’t mind me asking, but how have things been?”

“Great,” said Bucky, without further explanation. 

“Steve tells me that you might be missing some memories?”

Bucky was silent for a long time, and with each passing moment, Steve felt like his heart was trying to crawl up into his throat. But maybe Sam had been wrong…Bucky was bound to have changed, they could just be overreacting about the whole situation.

“I’m not,” he said, finally. Steve felt relief and trepidation simultaneously.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

Bucky shook his head. “No.”


	4. The Real Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger. Don't hate me too much!

It went like this.

The soldier had only paused in his relentless assault on the captain because it became startlingly clear that the captain had no intention to defend himself. He had no specific memories of missions he had completed in the past, but he knew instinctually that the captain’s behavior was odd.

“Then finish it,” the captain had said, “because I’m with you. ‘Til the end of the line.”

So the soldier had paused, and then the captain fell.

The helicarrier was falling, too, with the soldier in it. He hung there momentarily, considering his options. He was meant to die on this mission, he knew. The attack on the highway, and even earlier, when he had blown up vehicle of the target: Fury, Nicholas, J. was far too public. 

The soldier did not question his handlers, but he knew that it was not feasible to continue to use him as an assassin when they had paraded him so. Logistically, it was a poor choice. He wondered at the reasoning, but the desire to question had long been programmed out of him. So he said nothing, accepted his mission, and completed it to the best of his ability.

Now, though, he could see that even if he had completed the mission and dispatched the captain, he would have been decommissioned. The helicarriers would mean there was no use for him. But he had failed, and Hydra had failed. 

The captain was sinking out of sight.

The soldier jumped where the captain had sunk, and grabbed him. His right shoulder was dislocated, so he had to grasp the captain with his right hand and swim only with the metal arm. The captain was heavy, dead weight, and debris from the explosions surrounded them. Still, he managed to pull the captain onto the riverbank without much trouble. The soldier waited, eyes on the captain’s broken face.

The captain sputtered; he was breathing. 

The soldier watched him for a moment longer, then stumbled away. The swim had drained his energy and he could not be near when the captain was found. Already he could hear the helicopters whirring above them. He had to find cover.

He made his way to an extraction point, an abandoned warehouse that had been used as a base in recent years. It was empty, of course. The soldier reset his shoulder, gritting his teeth in order to remain silent. Then he opened a hatch in the floor and dropped down. The computers were still there, still functioning. He tapped into Hydra’s communication systems. 

Alexander Pierce had been killed. Hydra’s cover was blown. 

He was free. 

The alien feeling washed through him, bringing him to his knees. He had long since given up trying to escape Hydra. The punishment from when he had been caught in his past attempts was severe enough that he knew never to try again. They always found him in the end. But things were different now.

If he was going to survive on his own, he would need money. The soldier knew how to obtain money through Hydra’s accounts, and knew that he could do so without detection. Over the next few months, he managed to successfully withdraw over a hundred grand in cash, and transfer millions more to an untraceable account.

He lived meagerly, not wanting to draw attention to himself, never staying in one place too long. He was still fearful that Hydra would find him, bring him back. After some time, it became apparent that the soldier was indeed being followed, but not by Hydra personnel. It appeared that the captain was following him. 

He easily disappeared whenever the captain got too close, but he found out that he was dogged in his determination to locate the soldier. The soldier thought that the captain might want revenge; after all, the soldier had nearly fatally wounded the captain during their previous interaction.

In Prague, the soldier finally made a decision. He needed more information in order to gain the upper hand on the captain’s plans for him, so he slipped into the captain’s hotel room that he shared with Sam Wilson and planted listening devices. Then, he went to the roof and waited.

The captain and Sam Wilson returned after several hours.

“Well, now we know he was in the city,” said Sam Wilson.

“I know,” said the captain. There was shuffling, and then a creaking of the bed. The soldier heard heavy boots hitting the floor as they were thrown off. “I just don’t know why we can’t seem to track him down.”

“Some people don’t want to be found, Steve,” said Sam Wilson.

“Do you think he knows we’re looking?”

The soldier snorted. Did the captain think that he was some kind of idiot? Sam Wilson and the captain were not discrete. For one, the soldier had spent the greater part of the last six months in small cities in European countries that were not tourist destinations. While Sam Wilson could be quiet and knew many languages fluently, he was also African-American. And the captain was largely built and so clearly out of place that he couldn’t have blended in if he tried.

“Who’s to say?” answered Sam Wilson. “I think you should consider calling it. Didn’t Natasha say that he’d come to you when he was ready?”

Natasha meant the Black Widow, the soldier knew. Why the widow thought he would willingly give himself up to the captain was beyond him, however. He listened closely for the captain’s response.

“Yeah, she did. I guess I’m just worried. If I just knew he was alive, and safe, and not in the clutches of some Hydra lunatic. Bucky looked so scared, so confused, on the helicarrier. And you saw that file, Sam. What they did to him…who knows what kind of state he must be in, now.”

The soldier pulled his earpiece out. The captain was…worried about him. The captain wanted to know that he was safe. The captain referred to him again as Bucky. 

He left the rooftop, heading toward his temporary base. He searched the internet for the name.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

There was an exhibit. In Washington, D.C. The soldier booked a flight.

*

James Buchanan Barnes had his face. He had the face of James Buchanan Barnes.

The soldier did not ever remember being Bucky Barnes, but he did not remember many things. But the captain had recognized him immediately when his mask fell off. This, despite his altered hairstyle and gained muscle mass. 

He went back to the abandoned warehouse, his first destination after he had pulled the captain out of the river all those months ago.

The exhibit had been enlightening. But he needed more information. He searched the internet again, but added “Captain Steve Rogers” to his search specifications.

There was not much information regarding the interaction between the two of them. Most often, James Buchanan Barnes was a footnote in the legend of Captain America. The soldier expanded his search again, looking for information about the other members of the team, the Howling Commandoes. 

He found memoirs written by Gabriel Jones and Jim Morita available for download. They spoke more about Bucky Barnes and his relationship to the captain, describing their bond as deeper than friendship. The captain regularly risked life and limb for Bucky Barnes and he would do the same for the captain.

They described the captain’s distress at the death of Bucky Barnes, and how soon after, he crashed his plane into the artic, seemingly intent on following Bucky Barnes into the afterlife. 

The soldier thought back to the captain’s refusal to defend himself. An idea was taking shape in his disjointed mind.

The captain would not harm Bucky Barnes. The captain loved Bucky Barnes, would give his life for Bucky Barnes. The captain was worried about Bucky Barnes and wanted to know that he was safe. 

The captain had taken Bucky Barnes on missions with him. He was a valuable asset to the captain, his sniper. The soldier was a much better sniper than Bucky Barnes could have been, and now he had the added advantage of the metal arm. The captain would have good use of him.

He had no purpose now, no place to go. Hydra was not currently after him, but it was only a matter of time. The punishment for pulling the captain out of the river would be like nothing he’d ever experienced. He was supposed to be decommissioned, but the helicarriers had fallen, and Hydra would have to begin anew. They would need their asset, their fist, in order to reclaim their hold on the world.

The soldier could be safe from them with the captain. But this…this would be new a new kind of mission. The captain wanted Bucky Barnes, and he had Bucky Barnes’ face. 

He could be Bucky Barnes for the captain.

The soldier had been trained as an assassin, not a spy. Interacting with people was his weakness. He had been getting by without much notice simply by keeping to himself. He spoke when he had to, nothing more, nothing less.

According to the memoirs, Bucky Barnes was quiet, too. He was a serious sort, and only seemed to lighten up around the captain. The soldier had to search the internet for the meaning of “lighten up”. 

He would have to learn how to become a person. The captain would not take him if he was not Bucky Barnes, and Bucky Barnes was a person and not a weapon. He could not find out how to become a person via the internet, so when the captain returned from overseas he began to follow him. He bugged his home. He listened to his phone conversations and interactions with others for cues on how to behave.

The soldier had no one to practice with but strangers, and they were often less than eager to speak to him. So he practiced making facial expressions in the mirror. He curled his lips; smile. He curled his lips and showed teeth; grin. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips; sympathy/concern. He practiced and practiced. He could do the expressions. He could mimic the captain’s accent. 

The soldier shrugged on Bucky Barnes identity like it was an old coat that didn’t quite fit right. There were still weaknesses. He didn’t have Bucky Barnes’ memories, but he could do nothing about that. He would have to improvise.

When he was finally ready, he waited until the sun rose to knock on the captain’s door. The captain answered, and the soldier shifted into Bucky Barnes.

“Hey, Steve.”

*

“Would you care to elaborate?” asked Sam.

Steve’s heart was hammering. Something was wrong. Bucky sighed and then shrugged, like he was shedding a coat.

“I’m not Bucky,” he said, quietly.

“Okay,” said Sam. Steve was glad for Sam’s presence, because for some reason, he couldn’t manage to speak. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m the soldier.”

“That’s ridiculous!” blurted Steve, suddenly finding his voice. “What do you mean you aren’t Bucky? You know me; you remembered me!”

“No,” said Bucky. He sounded miserable. “I read about you in a museum.”

Steve tried to speak around the sensation of having been shot again. 

Instead, he gasped, beginning to hyperventilate. Sam stood, walking to where Steve was slowly sinking to the floor. He repeated his “4-7-8” mantra until Steve calmed down. Bucky didn’t move from the couch. When Steve made eye contact with him again, he had adopted the fearful but resigned expression. Steve felt his stomach lurch as everything clicked into place. 

The deferential attitude, the odd social faux pas, the way he just didn’t act like Bucky.

“What are your intentions, here?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was an asset to Captain Steve Rogers; he served as a sniper and was invaluable in the missions that Captain Rogers performed with the Howling Commandos. Sergeant Barnes was—”

“Enough,” said Steve. “Why did you do this?”

“I can be a good asset to you, Captain. Please.”

“You thought that you had to be Bucky in order for Steve to what— not send you back to Hydra?” asked Sam, gently.

Bucky said nothing, but Sam continued speaking, so Steve assumed that Bucky had at least nodded.

“Steve’s not going to send you back to Hydra. He’s not going to turn you in to the Avenger’s either. You didn’t have to deceive him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bucky, in a too quiet voice. “I thought…that I could learn to be a person again. I thought I could be Bucky for you. I didn’t mean to upset you. I can leave.”

“Steve. Is that what you want?”

Steve looked up finally, then. Sam was waiting patiently for a response and Bucky had stood, looking down miserably at the floor. 

“No,” he managed. “I—you can stay here.”

“Even though…I’m not him? Not the original, I mean.”

Sam cleared his throat, and they both looked towards him.

“When you say you aren’t the original, what do you mean by that?”

“A person,” said Bucky, pausing briefly, “is made from their experiences. I don’t have any of his experiences, none of his memories. I think I was him…once. They used to call me the American. I remember that much, but after all this time, no other memories from before Hydra have resurfaced.”

He stopped, looking down to where Steve still knelt on the floor. “I don’t think he’s coming back. I tried to remember, I swear…but I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, making a decision. “That doesn’t matter to me,” he said, firmly. “You’re still Bucky, and you need my help. And as long as you’re willing to accept it, I’m gonna be here for you.” 

Bucky looked at Steve like he was both a strange creature that he’d never seen before and like maybe the sun had come down to earth to grace them with its presence. Steve swallowed under the force of such a look; he didn’t deserve it. His motives were primarily selfish. Part of him believed that if he waited long enough his Bucky would come back. 

The other part knew that even if that never happened, then having this new version was the next best thing.


	5. Friends, but Not Quite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward times are awkward.

Steve and Bucky spent a week tip-toeing around each other after Sam returned home, and it was almost more than Steve could bear. If Steve thought Bucky was overly polite before, it was nothing compared to the almost subservient way he behaved in the wake of his confession. 

Three days afterward, Steve had been sitting on the couch, mindlessly making his way through Netflix when he heard Bucky approach. He looked up as Bucky stopped to see him standing a few feet away, looking down at his feet.

“Captain?”

And that was another thing. Bucky kept referring to Steve as captain, when he had been perfectly fine calling him Steve, before. 

Steve sighed, “Buck, please just call me Steve. How would you like it if I referred to you as ‘soldier’?”

Bucky flinched at the name, and Steve had a moment to feel like the world’s biggest asshole before Bucky muttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Steve felt his face twist, but didn’t know how to address it without making things more awkward. They sat in silence for a moment more. Finally, Steve managed to ask, “What’s up, Buck?” after it looked like Bucky wasn’t going to say anything else without prompting. 

“Is it alright if I use the shower?”

“Bucky,” said Steve. “You live here. You don’t have to ask me for permission to use the shower. You don’t have to ask for permission to make yourself something to eat or drink. You don’t have to ask me to sit in the living room. If you feel like doing something, just do it.”

“Sorry,” said Bucky.

Steve let out a low breath, but didn’t comment further, as Bucky walked away. He knew that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, really. On some level, Steve could understand where he was coming from. Having known nothing but Hydra for all of his available memory, it was only natural that he behaved this way with Steve.

And Steve was trying his best to keep his cool, he really was. But it was difficult, looking at this man who wore his best friend’s face and knowing that, for the most part, what lay underneath was some empty parody of James Buchanan Barnes –a complete blank slate, primed for orders and nothing else made Steve want to rage and scream and maybe flip a table.

It was more than any one person could bear. But he was determined to be there for Bucky and he knew that he was doing a shit job at it. He sighed and made his way toward the bathroom, where he could hear the shower running. He rapped against the door.  
“Buck?”

Bucky opened the door after a scant few seconds, a towel slung around his waist. He was already wet, his hair plastered to his scalp and neck and water dripping onto the floor.

“Yes?”

“Look,” said Steve, rubbing his neck, an odd flush rising. He purposefully looked away from Bucky’s vulnerable expression. “I’m sorry about snapping at you. It’s just…I really want you to feel more comfortable here, and it’s upsetting for me to see you acting so…so.” He paused. “Well, I guess what I mean to say is, I’m your friend, your equal. I’m not the boss of you, okay?”

He looked back up, and Bucky had his eyes on the floor again. 

“I apologize. I can be better.”

“Bucky, you don’t need to apologize. It’s…I just want you to be more yourself.”

Bucky looked pained. “I’ve tried to remember…”

“No, that’s not what I meant. What I meant is, I want you to be less worried about what I want from you, and more worried about what you want and like. Okay?”

Bucky nodded.

“Okay, good,” said Steve. He motioned towards the shower. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

He turned to leave, and heard the door close a second later. The whole interaction left him feeling embarrassed, but he was glad to get it off of his chest.

He headed towards the kitchen to decide what they should have for dinner that night. Steve had to admit that he wasn’t the greatest cook; there were a lot more options for ingredients now-a-days than they’d had in the 40s. Regardless, he knew enough to sufficiently feed himself and Bucky on their supersoldier metabolisms. He decided on chicken and broccoli alfredo, because he had the pre-made sauce on hand and pasta was filling.

As he was stirring the pasta and the rest of the ingredients together, Bucky joined him. Steve gave him a smile, which Bucky tentatively returned. “Hey, Buck.” He set out a couple of beers. “Which one of these do you prefer?”

The smile dropped off Bucky’s face and he froze on his way to take a seat. 

Steve stopped smiling as well. “Buck? Everything alright?”

Bucky said nothing, looking back and forth at the two glass bottles, his expression absolutely stricken. Steve stared too, wondering if this was dredging up some sort of bad memory, but then, he couldn’t see Hydra ever offering Bucky a beer.

“I…don’t know,” said Bucky after a few moments, and then he flinched.

Steve was completely lost. “Okay. Um, well I tend to prefer Stella, so why don’t you try that one?” 

Bucky made eye contact with Steve then, looking absolutely confused. “You mean…there wasn’t a right answer?”

“What?” asked Steve, incredulously. “No, of course not. I just wanted to offer you a choice.”

“Oh. Sorry,” said Bucky. He sat, and Steve would swear he could feel the awkward tension pulsing around them. Once again, he didn’t know if it was a good idea to address it or not. He felt certain that Bucky knew that he didn’t have to act this way around him. But instinct was a hard thing to break. And Steve didn’t want to embarrass him. 

Steve placed a bowl and silverware in front of Bucky and dished out a giant serving of pasta and gave himself enough to match. Over the past week, Bucky’s eating habits had more normalized, and he was usually able to eat as much as Steve did at any given meal. As a result, he had begun to put on some weight, his face filling out, and his complexion looking more rosy than waxen. The regular showering had done wonders for his greasy, limp hair, and Steve would say the old Bucky might have even been preening at its sheen.

This Bucky, however, seemed less than concerned with his physical appearance. Most days he wore sweats around the house, and didn’t even bother tying his hair back so that it wasn’t draping into his face. He used it like a curtain, a shield even, to hide his expression from Steve during 90% of their interactions.

Steve sighed, despite himself, and Bucky’s head snapped up. Steve hurriedly cleared his throat and made effort to start a conversation. “So, Buck, what have you been up to, today?”

Bucky blushed almost immediately, and Steve made to retract.

“That is…uh, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, again.

“I was…researching.”

Steve thought to ask about what, but he simply nodded. Bucky would share with him if he wanted. He shouldn’t push.

“It said in the museum that we were best friends, inseparable.”

Steve put his fork down where it was hovering in front of his mouth after he got over the shock of Bucky quoting the museum exhibit to him, again. He hadn’t done so since the incident last week. “Yes,” he said after a moment, throat tightening. “That’s right.”

“I don’t know what means,” said Bucky, softly. “Not really. But…I’ve been doing some research about it. And, I know it’s not the same, but I….I want that with you. If you want.” He hung his head at the end, his face in his hand. Steve could see that all visible skin was rapidly turning red.

“Bucky,” said Steve, voice thick with emotion. “Is that what you really want? Or are you just saying that because you think that’s what I want?”

Bucky gave a half-shrug for a moment, and Steve’s heart clenched as he waited for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to being allowed to ‘want’ but…yes, I think so.”

Steve cleared his throat again, and stepped around the kitchen counter. “Okay. Um. Could I hug you?”

Bucky looked up then, surprised and wary, but eyes full of cautious hope, nonetheless.

Steve embraced him then, and Bucky stiffened. After a moment or two, however, Steve felt Bucky wrap both arms around him. 

“Of course, I want to be your friend, Bucky. I’ll always be your friend, no matter what, okay?”

“Okay,” said Bucky, his voice muffled into Steve’s shoulder.

“Good,” said Steve, pulling back. Bucky was giving him that strange look again, like he couldn’t believe Steve was real. “But that means no more calling me ‘captain’ because that’s not how friends talk to each other, alright?”

“Okay, Steve,” said Bucky, offering up a shy smile.

Steve felt his chest constrict and he pulled back again. “Right. Well. Let’s get back to dinner, huh?”

*

Bucky had indeed been doing research. 

He found himself almost obsessed with the shared background that he had with the captain. He found himself trying to imagine what it felt like to be the really James Buchanan Barnes, and not just share his face. He imagined, over and over again, what it would have been like if he had come to the captain as the real Bucky, how happy the captain would be, how he would give him that smile that almost looked like it hurt, if only he was the original.

That smile that he hadn’t seen since he confessed his deception. 

He had felt sure that some punishment was coming. But the captain had been true to his word and did not force him to leave. The absence of that smile, however, was punishment enough. His stomach twisted as he clicked through another article about the two of them.

Friends, it said. “Best friends. Like brothers.” The museum had said ‘inseparable’. Bucky spent a lot of time looking up the meaning of friendship. The captain’s behavior towards him was that of a friend. He was kind, he showed empathy, he was honest, and indeed, he was altruistic.

Bucky felt his stomach churn; he hadn’t been any of those things to the captain. He had almost killed him, and then he had deceived him, taking advantage of him in the worst possible way. No wonder the captain hadn’t shown him that smile. What had Bucky, this version, ever done to deserve it?

He scratched his head, and moved on. He would be better. He would. The captain deserved the absolute best from him, and he was going to give it to him.

The other thing that he was curious about was the way that he felt when he was around the captain. The way he felt when the captain had hugged him earlier had been entirely new. He felt simultaneously warm, panicked, and tense.

He went back to google and typed in “stomach tight when around someone” but that only gave him potential health problems, which he knew didn’t apply to him, given that he was enhanced, like Steve. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong;   
his skin grew moist, his heart beat faster and harder, and he got stomach pains when the captain showed him kindness. It wasn’t just then, though, the symptoms would surface when he was just watching the captain perform mundane tasks like cooking or washing the dishes, but also when he watched the captain’s exploits from various missions he found recorded and upload by anonymous Internet civilians. It was maddening, and yet…

The warmth he felt when the captain looked at him, called him “Bucky” or “Buck”, or that feeling of radiance, like he was in the midst of something great when he was around the captain…well. He didn’t want those feelings to disappear. So, if he had to put up with a few accompanying adrenaline spikes, he could certainly deal with them.

Approximately 30 minutes had gone by since the embrace and yet Bucky was still thinking about it. His skin still tingled where the captain’s hand had brushed the back of his neck. He kept absentmindedly touching it. 

Bucky wondered if it would be completely inappropriate of him to request additional hugs from Steve at regular intervals. Steve had asked initially, which suggested that hugs were a thing that he liked. Steve had also hugged Sam Wilson when he’d left, the week before, though for a shorter duration than his hug with Bucky. 

Remembering, Bucky also had to note that his stomach did a weird thing when he witnessed that particular hug. A sort of unpleasant twisting, and he got the unbidden urge to punch Sam Wilson in his face. He had shaken it off and ignored it at the time. He did not actually want to harm Sam Wilson. Sam Wilson was integral in the captain allowing him to stay here, Bucky was certain. Additionally, Sam Wilson was kind to him even though Bucky had ripped off his wing and kicked him off a floating ship thousands of feet in the air. Still, the feeling had come.

 

Bucky sighed, tapping his metal fingers on the desk. He didn’t know how to figure out what he was feeling, and he didn’t want to bother the captain with his malfunctioning, either. 

A knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts. Panicked, Bucky closed all of his open browsers. “Come in,” he called out. He’d picked that up from watching TV. Standing to answer a door wasn’t always required, and it was probably one of the things that had given him away. He was a fool.

The captain, because of course it was him, entered, just peeking his head around the open door. “Hey, Buck. I just got off the phone with Sam. He got a job offer in Brooklyn, so he’s moving here in a few weeks.”

Bucky nodded, not sure how he was supposed to respond to this information. He waited for the captain to continue.

“Anyway, I’m gonna head to D.C. to help him pack, so I’ll be gone for a few days. Do you think you’ll be alright?”

Bucky didn’t understand the question. He had been alone for a year and a half before he’d approached the captain. It was obvious that he could take care of himself. True, the captain did feed him, but surely he knew that Bucky could procure his own food if he needed? His confusion must have been obvious because Steve spoke again after a moment.

“I mean. I know you’ll be okay, physically. I just meant…I mean, you’ll be alone again.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Bucky, finally, to appease the captain. He definitely had to quell the strong urge to follow the captain to D.C. now that the captain had mentioned the obvious. Bucky would be without the captain’s company for whatever amount of time ‘a few days’ meant, and the thought of that was…unpleasant. His stomach lurched.

“Good. Well, I’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. So I’ll make sure to have the house stacked with groceries before then.

The captain waited a moment, and Bucky stood abruptly, sensing an opportunity. “Steve,” he said, congratulating himself when calling the captain by that name made his eyes soften. “I want another. Hug. I would like a hug,” he mumbled out.

The captain stepped more fully into the room and Bucky fought the claustrophobic feeling. His training was so ingrained that it was basically instinct at this point, and the captain was strong and still mostly unknown and hard to read. Nevertheless, he needn’t be afraid; the captain would have rather let Bucky kill him than hurt Bucky in any way, even to defend himself. His stomach twisted once more.

“Buck? Is it…I mean, do you like it when I hug you?”

Bucky paused for a moment before answering. Had his request been inappropriate? Would the captain cease to hug him now that he knew Bucky liked it? He let out a breath. “Yes.”

“Okay,” said the captain. And then he stepped forward and enveloped Bucky in a hug, more encompassing than the one earlier. Bucky wrapped his arms around the captain once more, trying to soak him in, this warm feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. The captain smelled good, too: clean, faintly spicy, a hint of something else wholly unique to Bucky’s experiences. 

The captain had a way of hugging that made Bucky feel small, vulnerable, but somehow safe at the same time. He couldn’t recall having ever felt that way before. It was heady; he felt that he could easily become addicted to it. After a moment more, he felt the captain shift, and he pulled back easily enough. 

The captain’s face was red, but he was smiling. It was a different smile than the one that looked like it hurt. It was tentative, but open, and Bucky thought it might be his new favorite of the captain’s expressions. His blue eyes were a little wet.

“This might sound stupid, but I’m gonna miss you when I head to D.C., Buck.” He chuckled then, and Bucky smiled, too.

“Me too,” he responded. “But about you.” He had heard that in an animated film, so he gathered that was the correct response. Steve laughed again, and then clapped him on the back.

“Alright, well. I’m gonna go pack some stuff, really quick. But my door’s open if you need anything.” He walked away then, Bucky sat back down at his desk.

Bucky could have laughed. He could have, but he didn’t. He just smiled and nodded, and sat back down at his desk. What he needed was for the captain to keep hugging him and never let go. What he needed was the captain’s continued presence in his life. What he needed was to be the real Bucky Barnes, the one the captain wanted.

Too bad that wasn’t something he could google.


	6. New Old Friends

It took Bucky approximately 36 hours after the captain had left for D.C. for him to completely lose his shit. 

He had exhausted all of the movies in his list on Netflix, and had been randomly browsing through the rest of it, but it was no longer proving distracting. The captain had left his phone number in case Bucky needed anything but he didn’t think that calling him to ask him to come back was an appropriate use of that information. 

His skin was unsettled. He couldn’t recall ever having felt this way before. During his time under Hydra, they had more than corrected all emotional responses, besides anger, to a certain extent. As a result, there were many emotions that he had been feeling around the captain that he had no words for. 

More than that, he felt that there was no way that he could approach the captain with his worries. He had been enough of a nuisance to the captain and he didn’t want to bother him with his dysfunction.

Bucky sighed. What he needed was some fresh air. The temperature had gotten cool enough that no one would look at him too closely if he wore gloves and a jacket. He went to his closet and picked out some of the clothes Steve had gotten him, back when he thought he was a real person and not a weapon. 

He blinked then, realizing that he had just thought of the captain as Steve. It was the first time that it had occurred unconsciously. Bucky shook his head. It was a good thing. That was what…Steve wanted, and the more easily he could give Steve what he wanted, the more he would be a better friend.

It was like a mission, almost, he thought. Ultimately, he didn’t have much information on what the parameters were, but he had operated on less information in the past. He could do this. He finished pulling on a pair of jeans that were tight enough that he felt less than confident in his movement ability in the event of an attack. 

But Hydra hadn’t come after him in all the time he’d been moving around mostly incognito in Europe, and since he returned to the US. Bucky would gather that they weren’t going to suddenly show up, then, in NYC.

He looked at his appearance in the mirror. Without the metal arm visible, how recognizable was he? His hair was still long. Longer, even, than it had been under Hydra, but better kept. Hydra hated bother with hair-cuts, so his hair had just slowly grown out during his time out of cryo. They parted it to keep it out of his eyes, and that was about the extent of it. It had been greasy and lank. 

Now, it shone and fell in soft ways past his shoulders. He could have cut it, but there was something keeping him from doing so. Especially now, given that his cover had been exposed, he thought it would be inappropriate to say the least, to wear his hair in any way similar to the original Bucky Barnes.

He pulled his hair up from around his shoulders and put it into a bun near the back of his head, and tied it quickly with a shoelace he’d wrangled from somewhere or another. The bun was messy, but it didn’t matter, it made him less recognizable. He also grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put those on.

There, he thought, checking himself in the mirror. No one would expect the winter soldier to be walking around New York in broad daylight in a bun and sunglasses. Feeling galvanized, Bucky made his way to the front door. He paused, realizing that he didn’t actually have a key to the house. Steve likely hadn’t thought about it, especially since Bucky had made no real move to leave since he had arrived there only…three weeks prior.

Obviously, he didn’t need a key. He could get into anywhere without notice if he had enough motivation. And yet…

Steve didn’t like when Bucky had entered his house in that way before. The only other option was to leave the door unlocked, and Bucky would have to be a damn fool to consider that. He sighed. Wanting to please Steve could make things unnecessarily difficult.

He took out his cellphone and called the only number programmed into it: Steve.  
The man in question answered after only two rings. “Hey, Buck.” He sounded out of breath, which made Bucky’s stomach twist uncomfortably, for some reason. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” said Bucky. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” asked Steve, sounded reedy and high-pitched. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Bucky shook his head, and then pinched his nose when he remembered that Steve couldn’t exactly see him on the phone. “No, I meant. I’m just going out for a while.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “Oh, I thought you meant—never mind. Um, okay. Thanks for letting me know?” He sounded confused.

“I don’t have a key to the house,” said Bucky, flatly.

“Oh, right. Um, there is a key under the front mat. You can use that.”

Bucky had a few seconds where he inexplicably wanted to yell at Steve for making such a tactical error. He was taken aback by it, and blinked rapidly, clearing his mind. He had never felt that way towards a handler before…but, no, Steve wasn’t his handler. Steve was supposed to be his friend, his equal, so perhaps that was okay.

“Bucky?” asked Steve, in the background.

“That’s dumb,” said Bucky, and then clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. To his utter confusion, instead of berating him, Steve burst into laughter.

“We used to not even lock our doors way back when. Besides, anyone who really wanted to harm me wouldn’t bother with a key under the mat. They’d just kick the door in. And I’m not overly worried about petty burglars, are you?”

Bucky had to admit that Steve was right. But still. “I’m taking the key. And I’m keeping it with me.”

“Okay, Buck. Well, I gotta go. Call me if you need anything else.”

“Okay,” said Bucky, hanging up. He rolled his eyes. Steve didn’t take his own safety seriously enough, which meant that Bucky would have to do it for him from now on.

Something about his decision sparked as both familiar and right in his mind. It unsettled him, but the feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He pocketed the key and locked the door behind him, relishing the feel of the crisp Fall air. 

He didn’t have any particular plans. There was money in his pockets, of course, but Steve had made it so he didn’t really have any need to buy anything. He picked a direction where he could vaguely smell food and headed that way.

There were a good number of people out and about. It was a Saturday, he remembered, and people were out shopping with what he presumed were their families. For once, Bucky didn’t feel suspicious and mistrustful. Mostly, he felt that he was a bigger danger than anyone currently present, and there was nothing that he needed to be afraid of.

Most of his work as the Winter Soldier had been assassin work that required him to be out of the spotlight. The highway attack where he had dispatched the target, Sitwell, J.., had been his most public event. Even then, the people in the streets may as well have not been there, for all the attention that he paid to them. He had been entirely focused on tracking down the second target, the Black Widow.

He glanced at the woman pushing a child in a stroller past him on the sidewalk, and over on the other side at the teenager walking two dogs. They had no thought to fear him. They didn’t know who he was and what he’d done. And he realized soon enough that they had no reason to fear him.

Since his escape from Hydra’s control, he hadn’t harmed anyone. He had no desire to harm anyone. 

Bucky stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

He wasn’t the monster they had tried to make him. He was his own man, and that man was non-violent. He didn’t have to be what they made him.

Someone was tapping his arm, and he looked down to see an elderly woman. She was very small, her brown skin wrinkled at her eyes and around her mouth, but didn’t seem frail, somehow. She was wearing dark jeans, sneakers, and a brightly colored, patterned jacket, with a red scarf intricately wrapped across her head.

“You alright, young man?” she asked.

He nodded, and then some instinct in the back of his mind chided him for being rude and he corrected himself. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Cause people are starting to stare at you.” She frowned at him, then. “You on that stuff?”

Bucky didn’t know what “that stuff” meant, but he probably wasn’t on it, whatever it was, so he shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

She nodded. “Good. Good looking young man like you doesn’t need to ruin his body with poison. You ex-military, I’m guessing?”

Bucky paused. That was technically true. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Come on, let’s get out of these people’s way. I’m headed the same direction as you were. Where were you going?”

“Just taking a walk,” said Bucky. 

“I was going to the market they have down here on Saturday mornings. You ever been?” she asked, hooking her arm into his right one.

“No, I’m…new to the city.”

“I go every weekend,” she continued, just as open and friendly as though Bucky wasn’t some random stranger she’d just met. “Fresh produce and organic food is my secret. You know how old I am?”

Bucky looked at her. He would guess late 60s, maybe early 70s. He shrugged. 

“95,” she said proudly.

Bucky must have looked at her dubiously, because she chuckled. “I swear it! No one ever believes me until I show them my ID. She dug in her purse and flipped out her wallet, expertly covering her address. Sure enough, it said she was born March 14th, 1922. Technically, that made her only two years younger than Bucky.

“My name is Lilian, by the way.”

“James,” said Bucky. “I usually go by Bucky.”

“Bucky, huh? That’s an old fashioned name. Well, it is very nice to meet you, Bucky. See, the market is just around this corner here. Can you smell the food? Sometimes the vendors have artisanal goods like fresh bread and pastries. And they use fresh, organic ingredients, so you don’t have to feel guilty about eating them.”

Bucky nodded, but was otherwise silent, content to listen to her talk. Her voice was soothing in a way. She had a familiar accent, somehow, even though he knew he’d spent most of his time in Russia, and then later in the States, but in D.C. She clearly had a Brooklyn accent. It was almost similar to Steve’s when he would get caught up telling Bucky stories about when they were younger.

Not that he had done that since he found out the truth, but…

Lilian picked up a little basket that was sitting near the end of the street, letting go of Bucky’s arm briefly.

“I’ve got a few things to pick up, here. You’re welcome to join me, if you want. I know which vendors have the best pastries.”

“Okay,” said Bucky. 

Lilian, true to her word, pointed out to him which pastries were the best, which ones had nuts in them in case he was allergic. She watched him try various ones and laughed out loud at his expression of what could only be described as pure joy and amazement.

By the time they left, Bucky had a paper bag full of goods that he couldn’t wait to share with Steve when he got back. He smiled, just thinking about it.

Lilian chuckled and nudged him. “Thinking about a special someone? I hope you’re planning to share all those pastries.”

“Yes, ma’am. My best friend, Steve. He’ll love these.”

“Isn’t that nice. You married, Bucky?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve never been married.”

“You’ll find the right one, don’t worry.”

Bucky doubted that. He couldn’t see himself walking down the street, blithely holding hands with some person and staring lovingly into his eyes. Mostly, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was capable of love.

And even if he was, who would want to be with someone like him, who had done the things that he’d done? He could never be completely open with another person. It wasn’t even worth thinking about.

Lilian paused. “Well, I’m just down this way. Here, I’ll give you my number. If you ever want company on a Saturday morning, you just give me a call.”

Bucky handed her his phone and she tapped her number in, just as comfortable as any teenager with the technology. 

“You take care, dear!” she called, headed towards her house. Bucky stared after her for a moment. Lilian was unlike anyone he had ever met, he was pretty sure. He liked her. She made his brain quiet.

Steve would be back in the morning, along with Sam. And Bucky…well, Bucky was going to help them move Sam in to his new place, he decided. He wanted to do that, because that would be a nice thing to do for Sam. And Sam had helped him. And a real person would want to help Sam in return.

Bucky could be a real person. He wasn’t just what they’d made him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, old people just love Bucky.


	7. You're a Real Boy, Bucky Barnes!

“This is weird, right?” asked Steve, for the third time.

“Steve,” said Sam, “stop overthinking it. I, for one, think that it’s very nice that Bucky offered to help move me in. Two super-soldiers is better than one.”

Steve scratched his head. He had to admit that he was quite taken aback when Bucky had approached him after he’d gotten back to the house to drop off his things, not only with a bag of pastries that he’d bought from the farmer’s market that he insisted Steve had to try later, but also blurting out that he wanted help Sam get completely moved in. They’d gone there together to meet Sam, and Steve still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.

“But don’t you think this is out of nowhere? I mean, when I left, he was barely interacting with me, apologizing for the craziest things, and avoiding eye contact like the plague.”

“Well, he’s still avoiding eye contact,” said Sam. 

Steve sighed. He looked back towards Bucky who was walking towards the house carrying three boxes and looking surprisingly content with the situation. Steve was happy that he was acting more normally, of course, he was. He just wasn’t sure what had triggered it.

“His hair’s in a bun, Sam,” said Steve, plaintively. 

“I like it,” responded Sam, tearing open a box full of kitchen stuff. “You don’t like it?”

Steve blushed. “That’s completely beside the point.”

At this, Sam stopped and gave him a wide-eyed, sort of assessing look. He hummed, but said nothing else.

“I got the rest of them,” said Bucky. “Can I help do anything else?”

“I’m just putting away kitchen stuff, but it’d be nice if you could help Steve get my mattress and bedframe stuff upstairs,” said Sam. Steve shot him a betrayed look. Sam was definitely doing this on purpose; robbing Steve of the opportunity to continue asking him just what the heck he thought was going on.

“Okay,” said Bucky, placidly. “Ready, Steve?”

Steve nodded, and the walked into the living, grabbing the mattress and starting up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, the two of them worked together well as unit and they got everything moved up without even scuffing any corners.

“Might as well set it up,” said Steve, once everything was up there.

“Yeah,” said Bucky. They started their work and were silent for a few moments.

“So, besides the farmers market, what else did you get up to while I was gone?”

“Nothing, really,” said Bucky, sliding a piece of the bed frame into its socket. “I met a woman.”

Steve dropped the piece of the bedframe he was holding up onto his foot and then swore loudly. Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing and came over to him.

“You alright, Steve?”

No, Steve was most certainly not alright. Steve had gone for less than 72 total hours and suddenly Bucky was acting absurdly normal, wearing a freaking man-bun, and he’d met someone? 

“I’m good, Buck. Uh, that’s real nice. Who is she?”

“Oh,” said Bucky. He cocked an eyebrow at Steve for a moment. “Her name is Lilian. She’s actually almost our age. Born in 1922.”

Steve’s brain stuttered at that. Bucky had befriended a senior citizen in the short time that Steve was gone. What on earth was actually happening?

“I think you’d like her,” he said, moving to put the other piece into the socket. Steve finally got the last piece in, himself. “She’…reminds me of someone.” He stopped then, looking faintly confused. Steve lost some of his tension, against his will.

“Where’s she from?” asked Steve. Bucky’s face had gone soft. It was a new look, and it made Steve calmer, too.

“Brooklyn, she says. Her accent is similar to yours. The way it got when you used to…talk about…” he stopped, as they lifted the box spring onto the frame.

Steve could figure out what Bucky was referring to. Back when he thought that this Bucky was the old Bucky, and he kept trying to bring up old stories about their time in Brooklyn, before the war. He hadn’t done it since, but it was only now that he was realizing that maybe Bucky missed it.

“I could still do that, Bucky. Anytime, if you’d like.”

“I…like hearing about it. It makes me feel close to who I used to be.”

They smiled softly at each other and then Sam walked in. “Good, I caught you guys before you finished. Let me put on my bed skirt on before you put the actual mattress on…uh. Did I interrupt a moment?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“Nah,” said Steve. “Just catching up.”

Bucky smiled at Sam. “What is a bed skirt?”

*

They stayed, helping Sam unpack until late in the evening, and then Steve drove them back to the house. It had been a good day, Bucky thought. Steve had smiled at him several more times, and each time his heart skipped a beat or two.

Since nothing else in his body seemed to be malfunctioning, he gathered that it was okay. And he was willing to put up with it, anyway, if it meant that he could keep seeing Steve smile.

“Okay,” said Bucky, as they stepped through the doorway. “Now you can try the pastries. Lilian told me reheating them in the oven is best.”

He turned the oven on to pre-heat it, and watched a Steve rolled his shoulders. “Sounds good.”

Steve took a seat at the stools behind the counter and he and Bucky made brief eye contact. Of course, Bucky couldn’t hold it. He never could, but he kept trying anyway, as much as he could manage.

“Thanks for helping out, today, Buck. I know Sam really appreciated it.”

“Sam is a good person,” said Bucky. 

“He is. He likes you, I can tell. I was hoping you’d be able to get along with him. He’s probably my closest friend from this era.”

“What about the Widow?”

“Well, I’d like to be friends with Natasha. But she keeps a lot of secrets. I’m never sure if the Natasha that I’m looking at is the real her, or just a façade.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m sure that she thinks that she’s showing you the real her.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The Widow came from the red room. They erased whoever she was before, and whoever she is now has memories that she can’t trust competing with real memories.”

“Is that…what you experience?”

“No. I don’t have any memories from before, not even fake ones. Just things that seem familiar, like whispers I can’t quite grasp onto, no matter how hard I try.”

“Oh,” said Steve. Then he steeled himself like he was readying for a fight. Bucky tensed but didn’t move. “Bucky, I just wanted to say this. Well. I want you to know that even if you had told me from the beginning that you didn’t really remember me, or yourself, I still would have helped you as much as I could. I would have never turned you away.”

“I’m sorry that I lied,” said Bucky, his voice cracking.

“Don’t apologize,” said Steve, standing up and coming around to where Bucky was leaning onto the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry that you felt that you had to. You’re my best friend. And you’re always going to be my best friend. No matter what form you take. You accepted me when I had nothing, and no one. And deep down, that’s still the kind of person you are. I don’t believe that any lack of memories can change that.”

Bucky felt a strange prickling at the corner of his eyes. He reached up and felt wetness. But he wasn’t in pain, so why were there tears?

Steve hugged him suddenly then. “It’s okay, Buck. You can cry if you want.”

Bucky let out a strained laugh. He was crying? Only real people cried. “This is weird,” he said.

Steve pulled back, as if he was going to discontinue the hug, but Bucky just grabbed him tightly.

“I like it.”

Steve chuckled. “Me too.”

The oven dinged, then, and they pulled apart, both avoiding eye contact now. Bucky prepared the pastries he wanted Steve to try on a shallow pan, and popped them in the oven.

“Today was a good day, wasn’t it?” asked Bucky.

“It sure was,” said Steve.


	8. Avoidance is Always the Best Policy (or something like that)

Over the next few weeks, Bucky inched more and more out of his shell. Several times he had gone out to spend time with Lilian, who Steve was growing ever more anxious to meet. He and Sam had even spent time together without Steve on occasion. Steve was mostly not jealous about it.

He spent time telling Bucky stories about their past until late in the evening and relishing the look of pure awe on Bucky’s face when he did so. Before, when he didn’t know that Bucky was missing his memories, Steve could recall that Bucky’s expression was always just a little guarded. But it was just one thing of many that he had glossed over in his joy at having his friend home once again.

And it was true, this Bucky was different than the old Bucky, but instead of finding fault in their differences like he had been, Steve was noting all of the changes with fondness. For one, this Bucky had a newness about him, an innocence that was refreshing in its sincerity. Every new thing he tried filled him with wonder. There was no cynicism to be found there.

In the wake of everything that Bucky had experienced, it was something that Steve could whole-heartedly admire about him.

It also helped that this Bucky couldn’t look more different than the old Bucky if he tried. He often wore his hair in that messy bun, which Steve had finally bought him hair ties for, and Steve had never seen the old Bucky in this new age fashion that the new Bucky wore like it was made for him. Steve often caught himself staring, and then flushing red immediately the second that Bucky made eye contact with him.

And indeed, Bucky was making more and more eye contact. Mostly Steve would catch him watching him when he thought Steve wasn’t paying attention. But when Steve would look up, Bucky didn’t look away immediately, just smiled slowly and comfortably, as thought it was only natural that he should smile this way at Steve.

Steve didn’t think the old Bucky had ever quite smiled this way at him, before.

He liked it.

So all in all, things had been progressing smoothly. And yet, and yet…

Steve found himself avoiding hanging out with Bucky when it was just the two of them. He was perfectly fine to join in when Sam was around, but if Bucky walked into a room that he was already occupying, he lasted about three minutes before he came up with a reason to dart out.

The reasoning behind it was unclear. It was like Bucky made him uncomfortable, except that was entirely ridiculous. Steve and Bucky had grown up in each others’ back pockets for all intents and purposes. And yet, there was something new happening whenever they were around each other.

Steve would have liked to say that it all began when he came back from D.C. to help Sam move, but if he really, thought it through, he knew that wasn’t true. It started before then, back when he didn’t know that there was any difference between this Bucky and the original Bucky. 

He could remember feeling oddly uncomfortable for the first time, when Bucky had first shown up at his house and he saw him wearing his clothes. That odd flush that had crept up the back of his neck.

Okay, so, Steve wasn’t a total idiot, nor was he as completely oblivious as he tried to pretend. Bucky had always been it for Steve, ever since they were kids. But Bucky was straight, and Steve knew that then, and even if he wasn’t entirely sure know, he could think of at least ten reasons why pursuing anything of the romantic sort with Bucky was completely morally deplorable.

So the problem wasn’t with Bucky, once again. The problem was entirely with Steve. Bucky of course was growing more attached to Steve the longer they spent time together. It only made since, Bucky was latching on to any hint of stability, and Steve knew that he was providing that for him.

Steve wanted things that he wasn’t sure Bucky was in any state of mind to give. He wanted to talk to Sam about it, but now Sam was Bucky’s friend, too, and he was sure it crossed some sort of boundary for him to ask Sam his professional opinion of whether Bucky was healthy enough for Steve to try to make time with.

He shook his head at that last thought. What was he? Some kind of pervert? Bucky was trying to recover from his time as a prisoner of war, and all Steve could do was picture the way his lips spread when he gave Steve that slow smile like he often did. 

Okay, so Steve, like any healthy and sexually inclined human being jacked off because he had to, and he normally didn’t think about anything much when he did it, but lately images of Bucky’s pink mouth, the way his hair sometimes slipped out of his bun and tickled his neck, and the way he smelled when he was just waking up from a nap kept slipping into his mind.

Steve shook his head again. He was hard, as was usual when he thought about Bucky or even looked at him these days. He didn’t remember it ever being such an issue back when they lived together in Brooklyn, but maybe his weak body couldn’t sustain the blood that a near-constant erection would require. 

And in the war, his mind had been on other things, namely Peggy and not dying. Bucky had never given him any inclination that he wanted him back, and it was pretty clear after some time that Peggy had real feelings for him. And Steve had had real feelings for her, too. Of course, they paled in comparison to the way he felt for Bucky, but in the end, he knew that he was only ever destined to be Bucky’s best pal, and he’d mostly accepted that. And then Bucky had fallen, and Steve had done his best to follow him into the afterlife, but it wasn’t to be.

But now...now Bucky was here and alive and oh-so-warm and full of wonder, and Steve was unfit to spend time in his presence. He knew that Bucky was starting to become concerned that Steve was avoiding him the way he was, but it wasn’t like Steve could tell him why.

A knock on his door startled him and Steve hesitated for a long moment, wondering if Bucky would give up and walk away if he pretended like he was asleep long enough. 

“Steve?” asked Bucky, opening the door slightly.

“Yeah, Buck?” responded Steve, because there was no use pretending now that Bucky was literally looking him in his face.

“I’m going to go over to Sam’s for a little while.” He paused for a moment. “Are you gonna stay here?”

“Yeah, I’m just...trying to catch up on some sleep,” he lied. Bucky nodded in the doorway, and closed the door behind him, that same hurt look he’d been giving Steve every time Steve came up with an excuse for why they couldn’t spend time together. 

Which left Steve feeling like a huge jerk. He sighed. What on Earth was he going to do?

*

“Glad you came over, dude,” said Sam, warmly, as Bucky walked through the door. 

“Thanks for having me, Sam,” said Bucky.

The place smelled like delicious food, as it often did when Sam invited him over. He never seemed to have any particular reason to invite Bucky, but Bucky eventually realized that Sam thought of him as a friend and just wanted to spend time with him because of that. And he didn’t even always invite Steve, which made Bucky less concerned that he was just a tag-a-long.

“What are you making today?” asked Bucky as they walked into the kitchen.

“Lasagna. This is a recipe I learned from an old girlfriend. But then I made it better than she did, so she dumped me,” said Sam.

Bucky laughed. He had learned that Sam was often joking when he said things like that. Steve was usually able to come up with a quick come-back, but Bucky wasn’t quite so comfortable trying, just yet.

“Anyway…” said Sam, “what have you been up to in the Hall of Justice, lately? I see Steve isn’t hovering awkwardly behind you.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Bucky, looking down at his shoes. “He said he was tired.”

“Again?” asked Sam. “What is with that dude?”

“I think I’ve upset him,” said Bucky. “He always has a reason that we can’t hang out, and he can’t seem to stand to spend any time in the same room as me.”

“Huh,” said Sam. “That is not what I thought you’d say, for some reason.”

“Maybe he’s run out of patience with me? Do you think I should try to find my own place?”

“Well, first of all,” said Sam, pausing to put the lasagna in the oven, “I think that that’s something you should discuss with Steve, when and if you’re ready to make the next step. But I get the feeling that you’re only suggesting that because you think that’s what Steve would want. And trying to preemptively please someone without discussing what they’d actually want is something I’m going to have to advise against.”

“You’re right,” said Bucky. “It just seems that the more I want to spend time with Steve, the less he wants to spend it with me. It kind of hurts. Physically.”

“Really?” said Sam, folding his arms and leaning back.

“Yes. In fact, my body does lots of weird things when I’m around Steve.”

“Okay,” said Sam. “Like what kind of weird things?”

“Whenever he looks at me, my heart feels like it skips a beat, and then starts beating faster. And I sometimes just feel all sweaty when I’m near him. But seeing him smile also makes me feel warm. And his hugs make me feel small, but also safe, which doesn’t make sense, because that puts me in a vulnerable position. And lately, I’ve been wearing his cologne because it makes me feel like he’s near, when he’s not, and...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interrupted Sam. 

“Is something wrong with me?” asked Bucky. It certainly felt like it. He was content ignoring his malfunctioning when it meant that he could be friends with Steve, but now that Steve wanted nothing to do with him, he just felt sick.

"Bucky, my buddy, my dude. There is nothing wrong with you. What you're describing? Is a crush."

Bucky frowned. "A crush?" That didn’t make any sense. He did NOT want to crush Steve.

"It's slang. It means that you have romantic feelings towards him. Like you would a spouse."

Ah. Bucky knew about marriage...vaguely, anyway. But he had seen enough depictions of two people living happily ever after on the screen, that he could follow what Sam was implying. And people in those movies always spent a lot of time staring fondly into their significant others’ eyes, and wanting to be held by them, and even, yes, enjoying their scent to the point of stealing clothes and surreptitiously sniffing them. And Bucky wasn’t above admitting that he had done that a time or two.

And people in those movies always kissed each other. Little, short kisses. Long, drawn out kisses. Angry kisses, kisses in the rain, kisses before dangerous events, but always kissing like their lives depended on it.

He imagined kissing Steve. A heat crept up the back of his neck and onto his face. Bucky thought that he would like that. In fact, he knew he would. Very much.

"What's happening in there, man? You turned completely red."

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I have a crush. On Steve."

"Alright," said Sam, easily. "Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Like what?"

"Well, you could talk to Steve about your feelings. But," and here, he paused, "you have to be prepared for the possibility that he won't feel the same way."

Bucky felt like his stomach had dropped into his shoes. He gave a sharp head jerk. "I don't want to do that."

"Understandable. But let's think about the consequences of that decision. Your feelings might not go away; they may only get stronger. And you two are best friends, it's not like you can just avoid him."

"So what would you suggest?" asked Bucky, miserably.

"I think you should say something, if you want to pursue the possibility of being with Steve in a romantic way. The other option would be to try to gauge whether he returns your feelings, before saying something."

"And how would I do that?”

"Flirting. You'll have to put yourself out there a little bit. And Steve is pretty dense, so who knows how long it'll take for him to pick up what you're putting out there."

Bucky was already googling how to flirt on his phone. There were a ridiculous amount of articles on various websites devoted to the topic. "There is so much information on flirting."

"No kidding," said Sam, standing up. "Now, are you going to eat this lasagna or just insult me?”

Bucky had long since gotten used to Sam's teasing, so he just smiled. “Can’t wait. Which ex do I have to thank for this recipe?”

“Patricia. But don’t ever mention it to her. She’s a little sensitive about our differences in culinary ability, remember?”

Bucky laughed and followed Sam to the dining room where he set down the dish. Unlike Bucky and Steve, Sam actually used his dining room table instead of eating at the counter like a ‘complete savage’ as he called them.

“Sure, if I ever meet a woman named Patricia, I’ll make sure not to bring up lasagna to her.”

“You’re a good guy,” said Sam. 

Bucky dug in, and as usual, the lasagna was delicious, just like everything Sam made. And as usual, Sam waited for him to finish chewing and give him a thumbs up before he began eating from his own plate.

“So you’re really not going to just tell Steve, the master of oblivion that you’d like to bump uglies with him?”

“Bump uglies?”

“Oh, nope, no way. I’m not touching that. Google it if you want to know what it means. But by god, don’t do it at my nice table,” said Sam as Bucky reached for his phone. Bucky stopped and gave him a blank look.

“What I meant to say is, do you really think that not telling Steve, and instead trying to hint it to him is the best course of action, here?”

“It’s worth a try,” said Bucky, gamely. 

“Okay,” said Sam, giving his plate an incredulous look. “Let me know how that whole thing turns out. And believe you me, I am most definitely only saying so, so I can say I told you so, when he completely misses everything you’re putting down. Honesty is always the best policy, in my book.”

"Yeah. Okay. I will," said Bucky. He pointedly ignored Sam’s negativity.

Steve wasn’t going to know what hit him.


	9. The Bucky Barnes' Guide to Flirting

Steve didn’t know what happened when Bucky had gone to Sam’s house without him the other day, but when he came back, things had completely shifted. 

For starters, Bucky had shown back up with a bamboo plant that he had clearly picked up from one of those subway vendors that the police were always chasing out of the stations for no good reason. He had presented it to Steve, completely avoiding eye contact.

“For me?” Steve had said, giving Bucky a dubious look. He had been hoping that Bucky hadn’t felt like he needed to apologize to Steve for any reason. “Thanks, Buck.”

But then Bucky had hovered there awkwardly for a moment longer, like he was expecting something else, but Steve didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. After a moment, Bucky almost seemed to deflate, and then he muttered a soft, “good night” before walking into his room and closing the door behind him.

The next morning, Steve had woken up to the smell of something burning. He shot out of bed, completely in his underwear and nothing else and slid into the kitchen. Bucky was standing there, waving a cloth and what was essentially a cloud of dark smoke wafting up from the stove. When it cleared, Steve could see the remnants of a pancake.

“Bucky, were you trying to make breakfast?” was the completely idiotic thing that Steve came up with to say.

“The pancake got stuck to the pan,” said Bucky, miserably.

“Did you butter the pan before you poured the batter in?” asked Steve.

Bucky had an expression that Steve could only describe as looking like a lightbulb went off. “Ah,” he said simply.

“Here, let me do that. What are you doing making breakfast anyway? I always make you breakfast, you don’t have to do it yourself.”

Bucky mumbled something that vaguely sounded like, “I was trying to do it for you.”

Steve laughed. “Buck, you don’t have to earn your keep around here. Besides, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You’ve already been living here for over a month, or close to it, anyway.”

Bucky just sighed and trudged away again, and Steve was left scraping charred pancake into the trashcan and wondering just what the hell was actually going on. Had he missed something?

The next event was Bucky brightly asking Steve if he wanted to watch this movie that he’d found on Netflix.

Unfortunately, the movie was “Love Actually” and it ended with both of them crying and steadfastly ignoring it, instead of admitting that the plot was actually breaking both of their hearts. Afterwards, they both went to their rooms and refused to speak about it again. 

But Steve had to admit, it was the longest amount of time he had managed to spend in Bucky’s presence without developing an unwanted erection, so that was something. 

*

“Sam, it isn’t working,” whined Bucky, over the phone.

Sam paused for such a long moment, that Bucky took the phone away from his ear to check that they hadn’t gotten disconnected. They hadn’t. “Sam?”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out if I want to say ‘I told you so’ now, or…”

“I made him breakfast, Sam.” He didn’t mention that he’d burnt it and then left Steve to clean up his mess. Bucky dragged a hand over his face. He was an idiot.

“Dude, how is that romantic? I make you dinner all the time. And I’m not trying to get in your pants.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam couldn’t fit his pants, they weren’t remotely the same size. “I saw it in a movie.”

“Oh yeah?” said Sam. “In this movie, did they happen to you know…talk to each other? Maybe express their feelings?”

“I can’t do that, Sam, you know that,” said Bucky. The very thought of Steve flat out rejecting him when he had laid his feelings so bare was enough to strike him cold with terror. Not an option.

“Okay, fine. But, you know, you’ve only been trying for, what, a day. And you expect Steve, our Steve, to pick up what you’re putting down?”

When Sam put it like that, it did seem a little bit naïve. Bucky sighed.

“So what’s the next plan?”

“Physical contact,” said Bucky, firmly.

“Oh, god,” said Sam.

*

A day after the burnt pancake fiasco, Steve was absent-mindedly folding his laundry, wondering what wacky thing Bucky was going to try next, when the man himself walked past his spot on the couch. And lightly. brushed. the. back. of Steve’s neck. A full body shiver worked its way through Steve and he turned to see Bucky heading into the kitchen as though he hadn’t just done that. Steve gaped after him, incredulously. Surely, he couldn’t mean…?

Bucky got out a water bottle from the fridge and turned back to face Steve, maintaining eye contact as he uncapped it. “Hey, Steve.”

“Bucky,” said Steve, in response.

Bucky took a long drink then and Steve totally did not watch his throat as he swallowed.

He totally did.

*  
Bucky liked touching Steve.

And he definitely liked the wide-eyed look Steve gave him whenever he did so.

It all started simply enough. Sometimes Bucky would “accidentally” sit too close to Steve on the touch, so that their knees and part of their thighs brushed just slightly. Steve turned bright red whenever he did so, but he never moved away, so Bucky thought that was a good sign.

Once when Steve had been making dinner, Bucky came up next to him and very lightly put his chin on his shoulder. “Making fried rice?” asked Bucky, innocently.

“Yes,” said Steve, tightly.

“I love your fried rice,” said Bucky.

“You love everything I make,” Steve replied.

“Both of those things can be true,” said Bucky, backing away. When he did so, Steve didn’t move for a long moment. Then he angled his lower half slightly away from Bucky.

Later, when he told Sam about it, he said “Aw, dude, gross,” and hung up.


	10. Dramatic Ass Supersoldiers

Steve was hiding in his room. This thing with Bucky was driving him crazy. If only he knew what Bucky was trying to get at. At first he thought that it was all an elaborate apology for something that had nothing to do with anything that Bucky had done wrong, and more to do with Steve’s own issues.

But then, Bucky had stared touching Steve, and he could only pretend like it was all just platonic for so long. Could Bucky be trying to…seduce him? He shook his head at the though. He had spent so long pining after Bucky, both before the war and even now, that he was just imagining things that weren’t there. 

It was entirely possible that Bucky just wanted to be Steve’s friend, and Steve had been ignoring him, so maybe this was his way of trying harder. Which made Steve feel like a jerk. He sighed.

Bucky rapped at his door then, and Steve called out “come in.” What he did when he saw Bucky was something that he wasn’t proud of, but also something that he’d never admit in a million years.

As usual, Bucky had his hair up in that damned messy bun that had haunted Steve’s fantasies, but he was also wearing a sloped v-neck shirt, which showed off the faint sheen on his slightly exposed chest. To make matters worse, he wore jeans that were so tight they left little to the imagination. But the thing, the thing that had actually made Steve’s jaw drop was that Bucky was leaning against the door frame, biting his lips.

“Steve?” he asked, softly.

There was a long moment in which Steve stared at him, but did not respond. He eventually realized that he was supposed to be saying something, and so he managed a weak, “Yes, Bucky?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me?”

“Uh,” said Steve, dumbly. “Isn’t that what we do every night?”

Bucky shook his head, and rolled one shoulder. He made direct eye contact with Steve and the force of that look threatened to bring Steve to his knees. “I meant, let’s go out to dinner. On a date.”

“What?” said Steve. His mouth opened and then closed, again. “What did you just say to me?”

“I asked you to go on a date with me, Steve.”

“A-a date, date? Like, a romantic date? With you. And me.”

“Yes,” said Bucky, firmly.

“But you’re...Bucky you were the ladies’ man. You like women.”

“No,” said Bucky. He was starting to frown, and Steve got the feeling that he should stop while he was ahead, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“But you never...you didn’t ever...I would have noticed if you had...”

“Steve, can I ask you something?” Bucky interrupted. He stepped closer to Steve. Steve took a step back, and Bucky stopped, his expression crumbling. “Who do you see when you look at me? Do you see me? Or do you just see an imposter in the old Bucky’s body?”

Steve gaped. That was a ridiculous question. Of course, he saw Bucky. It was just that...he was the old Bucky, still, wasn’t he? Wasn’t sexual orientation ingrained? Did this mean that the old Bucky wasn’t straight like he’d pretended? Or did it mean that this was something entirely new to this new Bucky? His head was spinning.

And apparently he had taken too long to answer, because Bucky was clearing his throat and backing away.

“Okay. I’m gonna,” he jerked his thumb towards the doorway.

“No, Bucky, don’t leave,” said Steve.

“I…need fresh air,” said Bucky, stiflly. “I’m sorry, I just…I can’t…” He stopped, shaking his head, and headed towards the door, not even stopping to grab his keys. 

And he walked out.

And every step that Bucky took further paralyzed Steve.

It took a half hour before Steve found the ability to move again. He immediately went to his phone and called Bucky, whose phone went straight to voicemail.

Cool, he didn’t need to panic just yet, he lied to himself. He called Sam.

Sam answered on the first ring. “What did you do?” he asked.

“What? What makes you think I did something?”

“Well, the last time I saw Bucky, he had this grand idea that he was going to try to flirt with you using tips he found in teenage magazines rather than just tell you how it felt, and I’m assuming that you were oblivious and hurt his feelings, and now he stormed out and you want to know if I’ve seen him.”

“Uh,” said Steve.

“Right,” said Sam. “Nope, I haven’t seen him. I guess he’s not answering his phone, huh?”

“It’s turned off.”

Sam muttered something that sounded like “dramatic-ass-supersoldiers” and sighed loudly. “How long has he been gone?”

“About 35 minutes,” said Steve.

“Well, he’s a grown man, Steve. He can leave the house for 35 minutes without a cause for panic.”

“Okay,” said Steve, sounding the exact opposite of okay.

Sam sighed again. “I’ll be there with a six-pack in a second.”

“I can’t get drunk,” said Steve.

“Yeah, I know that. The six pack is for me so I can put up with listening to you mope.”

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” said Steve.

“Don’t I know it. Be there shortly.”

*  
It went like this.

By the time Sam arrived, an hour and 14 minutes had passed with no word from Bucky. By the time Sam made it through the six-pack, 4 hours and 3 minutes had passed. They had watched several episodes of Criminal Minds, to Steve’s utter confusion, but Sam insisted it was a good show. 

It wasn’t good enough to distract Steve from the fact that it was nearing 11 p.m. and Bucky was still gone.

Sam had fallen asleep on the couch, and Steve had taken to pacing. If something had happened to Bucky, he would never know. If Bucky had simply decided to hell with Steve and gone back to gallivanting across Europe, he would also never know.

He was working up a good panic.

Bucky wouldn’t be found if he didn’t want to be found. And that was fine, if he didn’t want to be found, but Steve just wanted to know that he was alright. He stopped in his pacing. Maybe he’d gone to Lilian’s house?

Steve scrambled for his phone and called her. He’d had her number since the first time Bucky went over for dinner without him, just in case.

“Yes?” she answered.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, my name is Steve. I’m a friend of Bucky’s.”

“Oh, Steve, of course. Bucky talks about you all the time. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Bucky,” asked Steve.

“No, not since earlier this week. Is something wrong?”

“Um, we may have had a disagreement, and he may have stormed out.”

She paused for a moment. “Steve, if you’ve broken that boy’s heart, I swear I...”

“No, I mean. I didn’t mean it. It was just a misunderstanding. I would never, ever do anything to hurt Bucky on purpose.”

“You had better not,” she said, then: “Well, I haven’t heard from him, but if he does come around, I’ll tell him to get in touch with you.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I really appreciate it. And again, I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

“The night is still young,” she said. “I’m having some friends over in a bit to play poker. So I’ll be up if he drops by.”

They ended the conversation, and Steve felt only marginally better that Bucky at least had people looking out for him. He sighed, staring unseeingly at his phone for a long moment.

“Tony!” he exclaimed.

Sam startled awake. “What’s happening? Where am I?”

“You fell asleep on my couch, Sam.” Steve was already dialing Tony.

“Well, Captain Rogers as I live in breathe,” drawled Tony when he answered the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tony, can JARVIS find a specific person in the city?”

“Of course he can, what kind of question is that? You’ve hurt his feelings.”

Tony must have been in the suit, because Jarvis broke in. “I assure you, Captain Rogers, that my feelings, if I possessed such a thing, would not be hurt.”

“JARVIS, come on, at least let him sweat a little. So who do you need me to find? Is he tall, dark hair, dreamy blue eyes, and sporting a metal arm?”

“How do you know about that, Tony?” asked Steve, harshly.

“You underestimate me, Rogers. I’ve read the details of Natasha’s web leak just as well as the next curious and committed citizen. Didn’t escape my notice that the Winter Soldier bears a striking resemblance to your best pal, Bucky Bear. Also, noticed you moved to New York, thanks for visiting, by the way.”

“Tony,” said Steve, pinching his nose. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been by. I’ve been a little distracted. Can you help me find him?”

“Done and done, JARVIS has been searching since you asked, you’re welcome, and we got a hit and...uh oh.”

“What?” asked Steve. “What happened?”

“Uh, minor inconvenience. Your buddy ran into some unfriendlies.”

“Who was it? Did they look like Hydra?”

“They were wearing S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia.”


End file.
